


Five Seconds per Mile

by holopansy



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Basement Gerard Way, Break Up, Emotional Hurt, Frerard, Heartbreak, M/M, Sad Ending, Songfic, Thunderstorms, might not actually be a break up, possibly just a fight, technically revenge era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24613654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holopansy/pseuds/holopansy
Summary: After a fight/possible break up
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Five Seconds per Mile

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicating this to Frnksblcks on twitter for putting me in Frerard jail

_ We hold in our hearts _

_ The sword and the faith _

_ Swelled up from the rain clouds _

_ Move like a wraith _

Gerard collapses into his bed, not bothering to remove his soaked-through t-shirt or jeans. His head is throbbing, and he’s regretting all the beers he drank at Frank’s. He feels like his chest is being pulled at, like something has gripped the air in his lungs and is tugging it out through the veins and then the skin directly over the faded Misfits logo. He doesn’t recognize the pain of longing heartbreak, awoken by Frank’s name.

_ Well after all, we'll lie another day _

_ And through it all, we'll find some other way _

_ To carry on through cartilage and fluid _

_ And did you come to stare or wash away the blood? _

Frank does, and he feels the same pain, washing over him in waves, like the cold water he splashes over his face. It’s dripping off his jaw and trailing down his forearms. He opens his eyes and looks down to see the shiny line of water between his chest and the water on the bathroom counter. His eyes are red-rimmed, but he pretends it was from the vigorous scrubbing. When he turns to grab his towel to dry his face off, his nose starts running. He wipes at it absentmindedly with the back of his hand and when he pulls it away, there’s blood.

_ Well tonight, well tonight will it ever come? _

_ Spend the rest of your days rockin' out _

_ Just for the dead _

_ Well tonight, will it ever come? _

_ I can see you awake anytime in my head _

Gerard has been asleep for probably half an hour when his phone starts ringing. He wrestles it out of his front pocket, squinting at the bright screen. He declines the call; he can’t talk to Mikey, not like this.

  
  
  


Mikey lets out a huff of anger, finishes retrieving a glass of water from the kitchen, and knocks on Frank’s door. 

“Yeah?” Frank’s voice is muffled and he sounds plugged up, like he has a cold. 

“I brought you some water.” 

“Thanks, can you leave it outside the door? I’m sick and I don’t wanna give it to you.” 

That’s the biggest bullshit story that Mikey’s ever been fed in his life, but he decides to let it be. 

_ Did we all fall down? _

_ Did we all fall down? _

_ Did we all fall down? _

_ Did we all fall down? _

Frank leaves the water where it is for another hour, until his sobbing finally subsides long enough for him to breathe properly. He gets out of bed and gently opens the door, bending over to grab the now-lukewarm glass. He walks to his bedroom window, chugging the water, and stares out over the treetops. A flash of white illuminates the sky, and Frank counts 11 seconds before he hears the crash of thunder. A little over two miles away, the closest storm he recalls in a long while. He was supposed to be laying in bed drunk, cuddled up with Gerard as they watched the storm and stole kisses. The thought brings more tears to his eyes, and he crawls back into bed, shoving his pillow against his face and letting out his inconsolable pain into the blue fabric. 

_ From the lights to the pavement _

_ From the van to the floor _

_ From backstage to the doctor _

_ From the earth to the morgue _

_ Morgue, morgue, morgue! _

Gerard once read a short novel by Stephen King, and one of the stories that’s haunted him was “Autopsy Room Four,” giving him nightmares even at the age of 27. He genuinely believes that he would rather be in those dreams, flayed open on the ME’s table with his blood draining into the basin while his 9th grade biology teacher pokes at his beating heart than deal with this guilt and anger ever again. Closing his eyes, he wills for sleep to take him.

_ Well tonight, will it ever come? _

_ Spend the rest of your days rockin' out just for the dead _

_ Well tonight, will it ever come? _

_ I can see you awake anytime in my head _

_ All fall down, well after all... _


End file.
